is PARADISE and all without it MARTYRDOM." In that
wonderful sentence, which I feel sure I recall accurately, he uttered
the most glorious expression that could ever come from uninspired
lips.

I had a glimpse of James G. Elaine when I went to his home in Augusta,
Maine, to write his biography for the committee. A day or two after it
was finished a distinguished Senator from Washington came to see me in
Philadelphia and asked if Mr. Blaine had seen the book, and I told him
that he certainly had. "Did he see that second chapter?" "Of course he
did," said I; "he corrected it." Then he wanted to know how much money
it would take to get the book out of circulation. "Why, what is the
matter with the book," said I, but he would not tell me, and said that
he would pay me well if I would only keep the book from circulation.
He did not tell me what was the matter. I told him that the publishers
owned the copyright, having bought it from me. He said, "Is it not
possible for you to take a trip to Europe to-morrow morning?" "But why
take a trip to Europe?" "The committee will pay all of your expenses,
all your family's expenses, and of any servants you wish lo take with
you--only get out of the country." "Well," I said, "I am not going to
leave the country for my country's good, unless I know what I am going
for." I never could find out what the trouble with that second chapter
was, and I afterwards asked Mrs. Blaine if she knew what was the
matter. She then broke out in a paroxysm of grief and said that if he
had stayed in Washington, Pennsylvania, where he was a teacher, "he
would be living yet." She said "he had given thirty years of his life
to the public service, and now they have so ungratefully disgraced his
name, sent him to an early grave, and all in consequence of what he
has done for the public. He is a stranger to his country--a stranger
to his friends," and then she said, "O would to God he had stayed in
Pennsylvania!" I left her then, but I have never known what was in
that second chapter that caused the disturbance. But I do know
the second chapter was concerning their early and happy life in
Washington, Pennsylvania, where he taught in the college.

Near our home in Newton, Massachusetts, was that of F.F. Smith, who
wrote "America." It was of him that Oliver Wendell Holmes said that
"Nature tried to hide him by naming him Smith." Smith lived that quiet
and restful life that reminds one of Tennyson's "Brook" when th